Eye of the Beholder
by Peachtree
Summary: A young Vampire in Chicago stumbles into a what looks like a murder attempt and dives headlong into a sequence of events that could cost him his unlife. This is chapter one


There must've been a conspiracy against him. For the last ten minutes Lono had stared, just stared, at the blank page in front of him. It sat clipped against a heavy presswood brown artboard. He pushed his fingers against the bridge of his nose the way his father always did when he was about to reveal something painful. Setting the board aside, Lono stood to his full height and stretched. "Shooting for eight portraits in one night? You're killing yourself." He thought, as he swept his arm behind his head to stretch his tricep.

his studio was littered with art supplies and magazines and on the grey walls above his futon there was an array of portraits, hanging everywhich way clipped to wires that crisscrossed the expanse of the room. They were a simple ashen grey, interrupted only by soft color pastel he used for the eyes. All the haunting pairs stared at him, a collection of some of the danse macabre of Chicago. He looked at his jacket laying on top of the punctured bean bag chair in the corner of his room. After a moment, he swept the jacket up and slid it onto his shoulders

"A bite to eat… Don't mind if I do."

Looking outside he thought about dropping from his window to the alleyway next to his apartment. He figured the stairs would save him the bruised ankles.

It had been a month since Norris had given him this assignment. He wanted a visual record of all the members of the night in Chicago. For that task, Lono Bartlet had been his boy. The product of a struggling artist from Cicero and a cop on the south side, Lono had talent in spades. He was one of the best artists in the city, and he was slowly detonating inside the environment of the university art program. Initially the exchange was a simple one he would do some portraits for some connected guy and he could get the diploma his dad had wanted him to get, without the shame of his father ever seeing his grades, and without the hassle of ever setting foot again in a classroom.

Easy.

The catch was he had to do the portraits from memory.

In this though, Lono had an advantage. Perfect recall. It was how he made it through high school. Whe he was a kid his parents had him tested to see if he was some sort of genius or somthing. The only particulars that he let himself remember were that he had photographic memory, and that his dad was disappointed with the rest of his scores. It also kept him from being a successful artist. To the art world that wanted creative interpretation, Lono was a camera.

Then again, there where perks to being a camera, The kind of perks that Lono enjoyed now were of the " Never die, or get old" variety. Hey the "drinking blood thing", or "losing your family because if you see them or talk to them they become walking liabilities", that's all small print. That's the stuff that Norris left out before he gave him the whole "you have been chosen to rise above humanity" speech, right before he had one of his flunkies, A woman named Emily Randall, give him the kiss.

It sounded like Lono found the golden ticket. Only this was some way fucked up chocolate factory.

The El came to a halt at the mid-city station on the bonna fide side of north side. "Bonna fide" meaning the area that Lono Could feed from and not get his face caved in by… Somebody else. And those somebodies filled the Real nightlife of Chi town. It was tough as a Chicago native to not be able to go about the city the way he used to before. He could only take so many stops on the El, the elevated train in Chicago that ran around the business district, before he was in unfriendly territory.

Hopping down from the steps of the station, Lono stared up at a set of toughs leaning up against the Support beams for the El . One guy was Shamu big , tucked into a grey suit wearing sunglasses at nine-at-night The other guy sported this " Shaved-my-head-a-week-ago " Look, along with a black Dickies jacket , white tee, cargo khakis, and combat boots. Lono knew them, they were Carthians. The big one was Elias, and the Skinhead wannabe was Tony Masters. The recognition hit him the same time the beast did, and it felt like ice on the back of his neck.

But he knew them, and there was this saying about the Devil you know… .

" My, My, isn't this sweet. Lono ,my boy, you lost your way?" Elias said a smile creasing the rolls of fat on his face, his teeth pearl white stilletos.

" Hey Lono, I got a joke for ya," Tony said rubbing his hands together. " What's the capital of Thailand?"

"Some place, where if I say the name you punch me in the dick." Lono stated, deadpan as he could deliver.

It didn't stop Tony though.

One thing Lono was learning to respect about the Deava, was the inspiring velocity of their anger, second only to how hard they can hit you in the cock for saying something smartass.

Lono doubled over and forgot that he didn't have to breathe, or that his eyes didn't tear. He forgot that as a member of the requiem you don't dry heave when you get sucker punched. No, for a moment he was back in his breathing days in high school, and Tony was some weird platonic physical manifestation of every popular jockboyfuck, but on steroids that take methamphetamines. Lono tumbled to the ground and took mental note of the piece of paper back at his flat that had Tony's address on it. He fed the image to his beast for later.

"Well….hmmm. Hello to both of you too." Lono said as he clutched his stomach. Elias grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face around.

" Well now that I've got you attention, remind me why I don't let Tony do taps all over that skinny ass of yours, son"

" Because I'm fucking bonna fide here!" Lono grabbed Elias by his meaty wrist. " I got the books opened by Burowski last fuckin week! I'm one of you guys ' the Movement' and all. So let me, the fuck, go!"

Elias opened his hand. Lono pulled his way up. His hair was less than 'less then perfect'. He straightened his coat out and stumbled backwards away from the thugs. Tony tried to tell him "to stay right there while they called Walt" but Lono flipped him off and made his way away anyhow.

The beast pulled at the strings in his chest, as Lono walked down Baker St. then east on 25th. He noticed the harrowed pace of his footfalls and did his best to slow them down. He couldn't hunt all wound up like this, but _fuck_ that Masters guy anyway. He was part of the problem. The Carthians would never get anywhere with guys like that on the payroll: all muscle, no mind. Walt was different though. He could see the long game. That's why Lono joined the movement. Mostly.

Truth be told, it was really a bitch to get a look at the people who existed between the cracks, and as much as the city "respected" Norris they didn't really like his flunky spyboys getting their thrills on Carthian turf. Especially if their thrills involved creating a visual record of the unlife in Chicago. That was another problem Lono had, as a zero with zero status, he had to jump through all kinds of hoops to get where he needed to be. That meant occasionally getting stomped by a couple of knucklehead Carthians….

Wait

Why the hell were they waiting _by_ the El? They were muscleboys that didn't hang around the tracks. They sure as hell weren't waiting to catch a train. So they were looking to catch _somebody._ that person might be in for a hell of night, and if Lono was there he could give the lowdown to Norris and get some payback on Masters. Sweet deal.

Lono pounded pavement to get back until he was standing in the shadow of the El. The tracks shuddered and groaned as one of the trains thundered overhead. Lono waited for the train to pass and as it snaked away he imagined the sight of himself being carried away with it until there was nothing left, until he was a memory on the street, nothing to notice at all. He moved deeper beneath the tracks weaving in and out of support beams. He heard something in the quiet.

There was a sound like wood slapping wet Meat.

Lono found a good spot to look out. In front of him he saw the two shadows shifting and moving. One looked like a snowman on four legs and the other a wiry puppet holding a slat of wood. Lono moved closer and in the dim light of a dying trashfire Elias and Masters struggled with a small form. Elias was behind it, tying up it's arms with his own while Masters swung in wide arcs with the bat. Each impact was met with a dull slaping noise. There was a pleading that Lono could barley make out. Soft sounds that were a mix of crying and begging. They were silent and wordless and they where attacking her with all of themselves.

With bloody _Murder_ in their eyes.

Lono felt his beast jump as he saw her face. It was hard to make out underneath all the bruise makeup Masters was applying. It was Mercedes Bain, Daeva Scion of Invictus, child to Justine 'fucking' Laskey the Keeper of Elysium. This wasn't some random beatdown. They mean to kill her, not just enforce some territory bullshit, and more than that they _couldn't_ let her go like this. The political backlash it would cause would create a slow dance that would end with the both of them exiled of to become one of Maxwell's blood bound dogs. If Lono let this happen this was gonna start a _war._

Lono looked about and snagged a piece of wood from a busted pallet left under the tracks. It wasn't sharp but it had a nice angle on one end, sharp enough for what he needed anyhow. Lono thumbed a black box on his pocket, not much larger than a cigarette case, with two nasty little teeth that could send 300,000 volts home if he thumbed the trigger. Taking a breath that he didn't need, Lono moved slowly onto them. He prayed that they couldn't see through his trick that he had wrapped so dutifully around himself. He poised himself above Elias, aiming. With the girl in front of him, Lono had no chance of going through the ribcage instead he aimed for the little bit of flesh between the neck and the collarbone and called the blood to make him strong.

In a motion he shoved the sharp bit of wood down into Elias's chest and he saw the whale of a man throw himself to the side howling. He threw Mercedes to the ground."Shit" Lono thought "that was supposed to fucking drop…" Lono's thought was interrupted by a bat slamming against the side of his arm cracking the bone. He spun and lifted his arms to protect himself, but Masters faked with the bat and slammed it into Lono's kneecap. Lono tried to swing at Masters but all the sudden he was gone. "Jesus he's fas.." Lono thought as masters Slammed the bat into Lono's head so hard Lono felt something break across his jaw, and under his eye. The bat spun away in pieces. Lono fell to the ground onto his stomach. He could feel masters above him looking over him. Lono pushed blood into his face, to heal the force the bone back together against the damage Masters had caused, but it was too much. Lono grabbed the black box out of his pocket, with his good eye clenched hard against the pain, and the not so good one crying blood tears. He pushed his concentration out trying to hide it with his mind as Masters turned him over on his back. Masters knelt on top of him, and Lono shoved the two little conductive teeth into Masters crotch. He sent home all the hate the little box contained into the Daeva.

"Fuckin' Bangkok." Lono managed.

Masters' eyes rolled backward as his teeth clenched against the weight of the voltage in his body and he fell all ragdoll to the ground. Lono grabbed the broken end of the bat, fighting all the hungry red of the beast out of his vision. He slammed the sharp end into Masters' chest and prayed the Daeva stay still.

Lono looked out he saw the Mercedes on top of Elias somehow she had managed to pull the stake out of his shoulder and was slamming the business end repeatedly into his chest. Elias wasn't moving. Lono picked himself up. He felt the hunger of the beast rip into his stomach as he healed himself. The girl was fine now too, a porcelain cherub, in some nightmare covered in her own blood. Mostly. Lono made her way over to the girl with his hands up, slowly closing the space. He yanked the bit of wood out of her hand with his right and steadied her with his left. She straightened herself and watched him with cold eyes as his own looked into hers.

"Is this the measure of Carthian hospitality?" She said, eyes as cold as her skin, as Lono pulled out his phone. "Who the hell are you calling?"

Lono stared at her. "I'm callin' Walt, he'll get a handle on this."

" No, call Norris, He'll deal with these two. Then I'd like you to inform Mrs. Laskey of this situation."

" Lady, I just fuckin saved your unlife. Why the hell…"

"No, you just averted a 'conflict' and did you duty. Now I have to do mine." She stepped an inch away from Lono. " Don't make me tell you again. There are some serious matters that need to be brought to Prefect Burowski."

"Like what?"

She let the question hang for a moment in the air as she measured Lono.

"Diablerie."


End file.
